“They were in charge.”
“Did they often ask you about the students or the instruction you were arranging?”
“Master Scholar Phaeryn asked about each student’s progress several times each year. He also insisted that they all learn both Tellan and Bovarian reading and writing, and basic arithmetics, the fundamentals of philosophy and rhetoric…”
“What about history?”
“He said that was up to me, just so they knew the basics of Tilboran and Lydaran history.”
“What else?”
“I had to provide a written assessment of each student’s progress each year.”
“I understand that. What else do you know that Phaeryn did?”
“He rode a great deal,” ventured Nalakyn. “He never said where.”
Quaeryt raised his eyebrows.
“Well … he did say that he’d had to request that a factor pay for his son’s time at the Ecoliae. He said something like that more than once. He often came back from his rides and gave golds or silvers to Yullyd.”
Quaeryt nodded. He’d wondered about some of the “board/instruction” entries and their irregularity. “What else?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“What about Zarxes?”
“He was gone more often. Sometimes he was gone for days.”
“By himself or with others?”
“Sometimes with Chardyn.”
“Did all the factors always pay for their children’s education?”
“Always.” Nalakyn paused. “Sometimes, the Master Scholar had to pay them a visit.”
“What else?”
Quaeryt asked more questions. While Nalakyn was more than willing to answer, more often than not, he didn’t know very much about anything except the school and what the students were taught-that he knew in great detail. Finally, Quaeryt dismissed the precept and returned to studying the ledgers.
Much as he disliked the idea, he knew he needed to go to services that evening and listen to the ancient chorister, if only to set an example, and that thought kept nagging at him throughout the afternoon. The midfall sun had just touched the hills to the west when Quaeryt stepped through the old yellow-brick archway leading into the anomen. The antique oak doors had not been oiled since his last visit.
Quaeryt moved to the front of the south side and watched as twenty or so students filed into the anomen, led by Nalakyn. It took Quaeryt several moments to find both Syndar and Lankyt. Syndar didn’t look in his direction, but Lankyt looked back at Quaeryt for several moments, then offered a nod. From what Quaeryt could tell, almost every scholar was present, and all sneaked surreptitious looks in his direction before the ancient chorister stepped to the front of the anomen. If possible, his wordless invocation warbled and wobbled even more painfully than the last time Quaeryt had heard him. Quaeryt spent as much time watching the worshippers as paying attention to the greeting, murmuring the opening hymn and confession, then adding coppers to the offertory basket.
He wondered exactly what the chorister would say in his homily.
“Under the Nameless all evenings are good, even those that seem less than marvelous.…” The chorister cleared his throat, then studied the congregation for a painfully long time before speaking. “We witnessed on Vendrei the results of Naming. Some will say that the Master Scholar died because troopers accompanied a scholar to the scholarium…”
Quaeryt was impressed that the ancient chorister used the new term for the Ecoliae.
“… but the Master Scholar did not die because of the troopers. The troopers never used their weapons against anyone. The Master Scholar died for another reason. He died because he was a tool of those who have for generations put their names above the needs of all Tilbor. Even the High Holders have considered those needs. You all know I have no love of those who flaunt titles. I have less love for those who sow mistrust and misrepresent what is. Misrepresentation is yet another forming of Naming. It is one of the most pernicious forms of Naming. Those who use misrepresentation take a grain of what is true and then spin a fabric of deceit from that truth. They magnify the importance of a small truth. They make that small truth large enough to conceal their deceit behind it…”
Quaeryt listened intently, concealing a smile. The old chorister had seen far more than he had ever revealed, and just as clearly, he had been no true supporter of either Phaeryn or Zarxes.
After the benediction, Quaeryt deliberately avoided the chorister, for to have spoken to him at that moment would have lessened the impact of the homily. Instead, he motioned to Nalakyn. The two walked down the rutted path from the anomen toward the brick lane leading back to the scholarium.
“The chorister knew what Phaeryn and Zarxes were doing.” Quaeryt let the words hang.
Nalakyn said nothing for several paces. “I worried about Chardyn more than I did about the Master Scholar. Chardyn had ties to the hill holders, and he was not to be trusted. I thought that Phaeryn kept him so that no one would attack the … scholarium … or because he feared Chardyn. You know that Chardyn’s father was the head of the Khanar’s Guard?”
“I learned that.”
“Most scholars are not men of action. If you had watched the Sansang practices, you would have seen that only a few younger scholars took part. Most of those who did practice were students. The Master Scholar allowed Chardyn to require students to learn some Sansang because they would not be scholars and because it would benefit them to have some training in defending themselves without using forbidden weapons. Most of us were not unhappy when Chardyn vanished.” Nalakyn paused. “You had something to do with that, did you not?”
“Scholar Chardyn vanished because of his own actions, not because of mine,” replied Quaeryt. “There were others who fell afoul of him, I learned later, and their golds and silvers found their way back to the Ecoliae.”
“There were rumors … but there was never any proof. I never saw the Master Scholar or Zarxes do anything untoward.”
“Even with the armories and the tunnels?”
“The tunnels were there for escape. The armories were there for protection. None of us ever took up weapons-except, it appears, for Chardyn, Phaeryn, and Zarxes. Perhaps one or two others, but I do not know who they might be.”
As they walked toward the scholarium, Quaeryt asked questions and listened. He had no doubts that Nalakyn was kind … but the preceptor of students was also credulous and not the strongest of personalities. Yet who else was respected and could set the right tone for reforming the scholarium into what Quaeryt envisioned? Could Yullyd and Nalakyn together manage to keep the school and scholarium operating?
Quaeryt had his doubts … but he also didn’t see any other immediate options.
He faced an even larger problem. While his “visit” to the scholarium and his subsequent inspections and findings had proved, at least to him, that Phaeryn and Zarxes had been linked to the hill holders, why hadn’t Rescalyn done something earlier? Surely, the governor had to have known long before Quaeryt had arrived. In fact, Rescalyn couldn’t have known that Bhayar was going to send Quaeryt to Tilbora. Bhayar himself hadn’t known until Quaeryt had planted the idea.
So why had Rescalyn seized upon the scholars and the Ecoliae so readily? Because it fit in with something he was already planning?
That made an unfortunate kind of sense to Quaeryt-and it also meant that he needed to return and “report” to the governor as soon as possible.
71
On Lundi morning, Quaeryt left the scholarium early enough that he and the two troopers who accompanied him rode through the eastern gates of the Telaryn Palace at half past seventh glass. He had barely reined up in the side courtyard when he saw the form of a ranker being carried on a wooden platform by six men in full uniform. Behind them walked a drummer, playing a slow funereal roll. The ranker had died, presumably in the line of duty, but Quaeryt had received no word about fighting. Besides, anyone who had died in the hills would have been placed
on a pyre there, and not at the Telaryn Palace. He glanced to the two rankers beside him.
“Do you know what happened?”
“No, sir.” Both shook their heads.
Quaeryt dismounted, then handed the mare’s reins to the nearer ranker. “I could be several glasses.”
“We’ll be near the officers’ stable, sir.”
“Good.”
The scholar turned and, after another look in the direction of the northern part of the courtyard and the funeral party, headed toward the door to the palace.
The duty squad leader looked up from the table desk. “Scholar, sir?”
“What happened? The funeral party?”
“One of the governor’s messengers got careless yesterday afternoon. He was running an errand. He slipped and went over one of the railings in the palace … fell and hit his head on the stone below.”
“Who was it?”
“Kellear … he was used mostly as a messenger. Nice young man … very pleasant.”
Kellear … Kellear … Quaeryt had heard that name before. He knew he had. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Accidents happen, sir. We wish they didn’t, but they do.”
Quaeryt nodded, still puzzling over where he’d heard the name. From the foyer of the palace, he headed down the main corridor and then up the main stairs to the governor’s study. At the top, he paused. The railing was more than waist-high … and what sort of errand was a ranker running on Solayi, not that the governor couldn’t order it? There was also the fact that no one besides the ranker-and the governor-would likely have been in the area above the stairs.
At that moment, he recalled where he’d heard the name before … and from whose lips. He stiffened, then took a deep breath, before resuming his steps toward the governor’s anteroom, hoping that his deliberate breach of the implied chain of command would yield the results he needed to verify his suspicions.
Undercaptain Caermyt’s mouth opened as Quaeryt walked into the anteroom.
“I’m here to report to the governor,” announced Quaeryt. “Some matters have come up, of which I feel he should be aware.”
“Yes, sir … I’ll tell him that you’re here.” The undercaptain rose and walked to the study door, where he knocked. “Scholar Quaeryt is here to report to you.”
There was a silence, followed by the words “Have him come in.”
Caermyt opened the door and stepped back slightly.
Quaeryt walked to the study, took the door, effectively from Caermyt’s hand, closed it, firmly if quietly, behind him, and entered the chamber. He walked to the desk and inclined his head politely. “Sir.”
“I must say I am surprised to see you here so soon, scholar.” Rescalyn did not rise from behind his table desk.
Behind Rescalyn’s smile, Quaeryt sensed there was another emotion. Whether anger, consternation, or concern, he wasn’t certain, but he’d definitely gotten a reaction by his presence, and now it was time to see if he could provoke the governor into revealing more.
“I assume you read my report about the hidden armory, sir.”
“I did. Surely, you did not ride across Tilbora to question me on what I read?”
“Oh, no, sir. But, after I sent you the first report, I had time to do an even more thorough investigation of the buildings, and I thought you should know immediately of the results.”
“A written report, sent through the princeps, would have been more than sufficient.”
“There were matters I did not believe should have been put to ink. But first, the buildings. There was a second escape tunnel and also a second hidden armory, concealed in the lower-level armory. Unlike the smaller first armory, whose weapons looked older and which had not been used recently, a number of the weapons in the second armory were in excellent condition and bore signs of recent use and sharpening. Then I undertook an inspection of the ledgers of the Ecoliae. The ledgers were kept by the bursar, but many of the sources of funds were never revealed. What I did determine was that for at least the last five years a monthly sum of golds-twenty to be exact, and in silvers-was delivered by a courier from a barge that came from the Boran Hills and landed at the barge piers in Tilbora. I also ascertained that the Sansang master of the Ecoliae and the Master Scholar and the princeps all have close ties to the hill holders. The Sansang master, who recently vanished, was an officer in the Khanar’s Guard, and his father was the last head of the Guard. The princeps and the Master Scholar also served briefly in the Guard, during the time that Lord Chayar took control of Tilbor.”
“All that is interesting, but scarcely urgent, scholar.”
“Further, I discovered the scholar princeps had placed at least one spy here in the palace, and that the Master Scholar believed that the spy had been discovered and was being watched.”
There was only the barest flicker of the eyes from Rescalyn, and Quaeryt continued without pause. “In addition, the scholar princeps-you may recall that he was the one who killed the Master Scholar and fled through the first tunnel-and the Sansang master made many trips into the Boran Hills. Also, the scholar princeps is the son of the hill holder Zorlyn.”
Rescalyn smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes. “I admire your diligence, scholar, and I can see why you felt you needed to convey such information personally.”
“I thought you would like to have confirmation of what you doubtless already suspected, and perhaps already knew from your own sources. I also wanted to let you know that the scheming and the attacks which resulted from these men were limited to a handful of scholars, two of whom appear to be dead, and two of whom are in flight to the hills.” Quaeryt inclined his head politely, wondering if Rescalyn would ask about who happened to be dead.
“Is there any other information you think I should know?”
“I do not know what you know, sir, but I have heard from several factors that the hill holders have their own silver mines, and that they have stockpiled a great deal, perhaps enough to fund a lengthy military action.” That was entirely a guess on Quaeryt’s part, but a plausible one. He smiled politely. “That is all, sir. It may be that I have thought the information more urgent than you would have judged it, but I am not an officer, although you have accorded me rank as a thoughtful courtesy, and I did not wish to fail you by delaying information you might need.”
At that, Rescalyn frowned.
Quaeryt thought the frown was not what the governor felt, but he waited.
Finally, the older man spoke. “I cannot fault you for your diligence, and I can see why you felt I should know.” He smiled politely. “You may go.”
Quaeryt bowed, turned, and left, before Rescalyn could remind him to report to the princeps. The fact that Rescalyn had not was another small indication that Quaeryt had upset his thoughts. Once the scholar was in the corridor outside, he glanced around, and seeing no one, immediately raised a concealment, then walked quietly toward the princeps’s anteroom. He did not enter, but turned toward his study and, after several steps, turned and waited.
Almost half a quint passed before he heard steps. He immediately moved forward and then trailed the governor into the princeps’s anteroom and then into the study. Quaeryt barely managed to squeeze into the study behind Rescalyn, and only because Vhorym was slow to step forward and close the door behind the governor.
“Has your scholar assistant reported to you yet?” Rescalyn’s voice was moderate.
Straesyr, clearly startled, rose. “I haven’t seen him. I take it you have.”
“Did you tell him to report directly to me?”
“No. He’s always been very respectful of the line of command.”
“He left my study just a while ago, and…” Rescalyn stopped. “You read his report. What do you think?”
“He seems to have handled matters relatively well, Rescalyn. No one got killed except for the Master Scholar, and clever as Quaeryt is, I don’t think he could manage killing a Sansang practitioner with a single knife slash. It was
a single slash, was it not? Also, Quaeryt doesn’t carry that large a blade.”
“That was the report from the undercaptain to Major Skarpa.”
“Then you should be pleased that the damage was so little and that the scholar is reorganizing the Ecoliae along more traditional lines. You should also be pleased that the two guilty scholars escaped to the hills. That was your intention, wasn’t it? That someone escape to warn the hill holders?”
“I’m concerned,” said Rescalyn smoothly, “that he may have an agenda of his own.”
“That is a surprise to you? Anyone who has survived the palace of Lord Bhayar, and as a seaman, and the situations in which you placed him, has a modicum of intelligence. Any man with intelligence will have his own ideas. The question you might consider is to what degree he is loyal to Lord Bhayar.”
“Bhayar thinks him highly loyal. He would not be here otherwise.”
“I agree. He also has other contacts in the palace, as I mentioned.”
“Yes, you did … as I recall.”
Straesyr shrugged. “So far, nothing would appear out of the ordinary.”
“That may be. I would trust that it will remain so.” Rescalyn paused, then added, “Do give my best to your wife.”
Straesyr stiffened for a moment, then said coolly, “Thank you.…”
Quaeryt could see the impact the mention of Straesyr’s wife had, as if the pleasantly spoken words had been a threat, but he concentrated on what followed.
“… As for matters remaining as they are, as you have intimated, I have no reason for it to be otherwise. Even if Quaeryt has another way of reporting what he has observed, all that you have done is entirely within the purview and discretion of a good governor.”
“As I have always been.”
“That is true.”
Rescalyn nodded brusquely before turning and leaving.
Quaeryt had less trouble exiting the study behind Rescalyn, because the governor did not even try to close the door behind himself.
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